The BoyWhoMurdered
by Creleuth
Summary: I'm so sorry everyone! This story is officially discontinued for me and up for grabs for anyone who wants to continue it. I just don't think I have the ability to write without getting sugar-high to keep the quality up. FORGIVE ME!
1. Summary

Summary:

Harry James Potter was not an ordinary child, nor did he have an ordinary life.

Constant abuse by his relatives and ruthless oppression of his "freakiness" – as they would call it – rendered the young Potter emotionally unstable and physically malnourished, amongst other things. He had no friends, his only family hated him for what he was, spat at his excuses for "freakiness" and showed only contempt when he got good grades at his school. Needless to say, Harry Potter did not have a very good life.

Unbeknownst to him, beings all over Britain meet in shady pubs and bright alleys, in houses and mansions, holding toasts and parties at his wake since he was one year old.

Little did Harry Potter know that he was special, that strangers knew more about his life than anyone else, and celebrated each time Halloween came to pass.

Little did they know that they themselves were deceived by gods, cruel gods who sought to bring colour to an otherwise mundane world (in their immortal eyes). Harry James Potter was not what he seemed, the gods made sure of that, and so begins the story of Harry Potter, the Chosen One.

Little did they know that Harry Potter was more special than he seemed, as he found out during his 9th year at the Dursleys. Little did they know that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was a daemon…

Off in the horizon, one can hear the laughter of thirsting gods.

Hi Everyone! I'm Creleuth – and before you ask, no, I did not steal this name or anything in this story, Games Workshop and J.K. Rowling would have my head otherwise.

This is my first story so forgive me for inexperience, I will be regularly updating this (possibly weekly) but I may have problems because of college so don't get nasty if I can't update as fast.

Oh, and if you didn't get the reference at the end, this is a crossover fanfic with Warhammer 40k.

Cheers!


	2. Birth of a Daemon

_Thoughts_

"English"

**Mind communication**

**Spells (Daemon)**

_**Spells ( Wizard)**_

* * *

Chapter 1:

Birth of a Daemon

"_Fear is the most effective way of communicating to an opposing creature that you are, in no way whatsoever, going to tolerate their insolence at your dominance."_

The quiet evening in Number 4, Privet Drive was exactly what Harry James Potter wanted it to be, quiet. He lay on his well-made bed in the guest room of the Dursleys, staring at the clock he had on top of the bedside table, counting down the time until it was his birthday; while the clock slowly ticked towards 12:00 AM, he surveyed his room once again, thinking of his life these past nine years, soon to be ten. The more he looked around, the more he saw evidences of the Dursley's dominance over his life: the oversized clothes he was planning on setting on fire while Dudley was asleep; the broken and bruised toys and cars scattered all over the room, making him want to chuck the lot of them right at the Dursleys' faces, maybe hit their eyes as a bonus; the complete and utter lack of any belongings that were firstly Harry's, beside the shrine that he managed to build from odds and ends around the house.

_Geez_, w_ould it kill them to show some compassion or guilt for a spell? _He thought irritably. _It's not like I'm asking for a suit from Savile Row or anything like that! Ah, whatever, I'll talk to them tomorrow._

He then turned back to the clock, which now read 12:00 AM. _Hmph, guess I'm officially 10 years old eh?_ He thought as he got up from the bed and went to the little shrine he had made for his gods. It was a curious thing, what with an eight-pointed star made from red dye and various symbols etched around it, with a knife and paper inside the shape, _almost like the Dharma Chakra from Buddhism _he thought dryly, knowing it wasn't anything like the Buddhist symbol for the eight-fold path for enlightenment, it was the eight-fold path for darkness.

He chuckled at the thought of the perversion to the holy symbol of Buddhism as he took the ceremonial knife from the table (it was more of a kitchen knife that he "lost" when cleaning the kitchen, carved with the appropriate runes of course) and cut his thumb to make a single drop of blood fall into the paper that was in the center of the star, letting the dark energies of his patrons fill him with their forbidden power. As he filled with the eldritch energy, the blood on the paper them was absorbed into it and words began to appear on the paper, excited that he finally made the paper respond again, he took up his pen and looked at the words that were glistening on the page.

**Greetings Harry Potter**, it wrote.

**Greetings once again my master,** Harry replied quickly.

**Good, formalities aside, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, WAKING ME UP AT MIDNIGHT!** The paper practically shouted the words at him. Harry snickered, it has been this way since he accidentally caused one poor mortal to die in a most gruesome death, of course the humans thought the victim was crazy, breaking into a police prison, opening the cell doors and telling the inmates to come and – how should I say this? – break him? Due to that, he managed to unlock a set of his memories that allowed him to begin his journey into darkness (_or is it enlightenment?_ He thought with a chuckle).

**I am DAEMON.**

**Well, I can concede to that, **_**fleshling**_**, however, you will contact me in APPROPRIATE times from now on. ARE WE CLEAR?**

**Yes lord, it's just that it's my birthday right now…**

**So?**

**So, um, I wanted, um…**

**I'm getting annoyed boy!**

**I want you to teach me more about our people my lord!**

**Hmph, of course, IN THE MORNING! NOW SLEEP BEFORE I SMASH YOU THROUGH THE PORTAL INTO THE EMPYREAN!**

* * *

Harry yawned widely at the face of his Uncle Vernon, and grinned at his fate. By a stroke of luck he managed to find a way to bypass the stupid mortal wards that were strung around his relative's house that alerted someone to any spurs of magic inside the walls, or so his rapidly increasing knowledge of the mortal world said to him. Apparently these wards were cast by a species who called themselves wizards, with the power to control the soul energy not dissimilar to him.

_Well whatever, _He thought. It doesn't matter as of now, what mattered to the ten-year-old daemon was that he now had free reign to use his growing powers as he saw fit. He began by trying all three of his relatives to the wall of the living room and casting a silencing ward around the area so as not to disturb their neighbors. After all, Harry may be a daemon, but it would not do to leave a trail of mortal deaths all over the place when he was barely strong enough to counter the more powerful daemons that surely resided in this world.

He chuckled darkly, fledgling or not, he was still a being of pure emotion, and all of his being begged him to start torturing his relatives for their insolence and abuse of him for 9 years. _Well, let it not be known that I am a generous man. _His cousin screamed his head off as Harry approached him, it's been 2 months since his birthday, and he managed to learn well, time to put it to good use.

"No, NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME FREAK!" the pig said.

"No brat! You won't –"

"Silence! **Summonitiomen** **Noctus!**"

_(Author's Note: The following scene will contain graphic violence and slightly squeamish details, intestinal guidance is advised.)_

Dudley screamed. He screamed harder than he thought was possible for him, as he suddenly say a very frightening figure standing in front of him with his back turned towards him, looking at a red moon and clutching a bloody dagger in one hand. They were on top of a strange cliff, with blood running like water all around them and Dudley nailed to the ground by a stake through his trousers. Two familiar figures were at the feet of the stranger, they were his mother and father, but they were different; both were groveling on the ground as they bowed and praised the stranger, weird light showing from their eyes, with an eight-pointed star engraved at their foreheads.

"Mummy! Da-Daddy! Help!" he yelled, thinking that his parents would surely come to help him as like before.

He was sorely mistaken.

The stranger barked a command and both of his parents then stood up and turned to Dudley. The relief he first felt was squashed like a lemon when his father strode over to him and took him roughly by the hair of his head, then smashed his fist into Dudley's jaw. His mother took a knife from her bloodstained apron and started to slowly cut off Dudley's fingers one by one, tendon by tendon, starting from his nails, pausing a little after each one to make sure Dudley's suffering was maximized. Every time one finger was fully removed, his father would then laughed maniacally and stuff the cut up finger into his son's mouth and force him to swallow it, then took the knife from his wife and cut off a little portion of Dudley's manhood. He would then give the dripping knife back to his wife and roughly slam Dudley on his front, eliciting piercing cries of pain and anguish, and then they continued from the beginning.

_(Author's Note: Squeamish part is done for now, if you retched while reading the little paragraph above please feel free to skip all such portions from here on out, I'm planning to slowly make them worse as Harry's power grows.)_

"YOU FREAK! WHAT DID YOU DO TO DUDLEY?" Vernon yelled as his son screamed and cries for mercy again and again.

"Why, I simply gave him a little wake-up call as to who is in charge of this household from now on. We simply can't let you get all uppity and try to tell others won't we?" Harry replied happily. Dudley's screams served as an excellent food for his hungry soul, sure mortal food was adequate, but the taste just cannot compare to the horror and fear he could so easily get from humans.

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

"Language Horse or else I'll make what Pig Junior here feel like his torture was a birthday cake" Harry told here coldly. Petunia looked suddenly fearful at her son while Vernon was visibly purpling in rage. _Interesting, so these humans can change their color without effort?_ He continued.

"Now, if you are willing to become my obedient little servants I'll let Dudley off the hook and even let you go through life like all was sunshine and daisies." He paused, letting them get their hopes up then suddenly saying "However, whenever I am in the house I am to be treated with respect like a master, I will not tolerate either of you talking back to me or usurping me in any way. If you try to tell the authorities or disobey me I will simply reverse the entire situation and then punish you for your lack of gratitude at my leniency by torturing Dudley again and again while you are forced to watch. Are we clear?"

Harry then smiled brightly at the two of them, looking like a demon come from the shadows to burn the whole world, what with Dudley behind him screaming while his eyes started to cry blood.

* * *

Alright, as you can see Harry Potter is NOT the canon Potter, though he is definitely neither deranged nor mad. This is simply his way of addressing poor little mortals like us (pouts). I haven't decided on the possible pairings yet but I will give him a slave later on in the story, and no, I'm not going to make this a slash, sorry folks. (ducks behind desk trying to avoid Draco Malfoy's Killing Curse at him not being able to kneel in from of Harry and pleasure him endlessly,[ _I need a new desk_…])

Terminology:

Daemon – a creature from Warhammer 40k, a being made of pure emotion that is generally 10 times more sadistic than Snape or Old Voldy(No, I'm not joking one bit). They usually serve one of the four Chaos Gods but I'm still thinking of what exactly to do with Harry, maybe make him a new prototype daemon that has new powers? Maybe.

Dharma Chakra – oh come on, we all went through this in History class right? (looks at the blank faces of the wizards) Maybe not, alright, it's basically a holy symbol for Buddhism (symbolizing the eight-fold path [_What? It's not like I made it up!]_).

Summonitiomen Noctus – roughly translates to "Summons of Night", engulfs the target with a complete hallucination of the caster's choosing, first used by Harry Potter (to astonishing effect) on Dudley Dursley. The hallucination can only be broken by the caster and can make the target feel any and all sensations related to the hallucination they are currently trapped in. (_Nasty little bugger, I shudder to think what other spells I might think up on a boring day_)

I really dunno what length of chapter to use really, so forgive me if the chapter seems short. To clarify, my goal is to cover all of the 7 years of Hogwarts (Snape [Ambitious brat], I run after chucking my wet ink bottle at his greasy face, HELP). Expect a moderate amount of the disturbing graphical scenes and possibly a few sex/rape scenes in the future. If you have any comments or suggestions or just plain want to review, please do, thank you and good night (stops running from Snape for a moment and takes a bow, only to be tackled by the git and the gay dragon and shoved to a universal portal to be sent to 40k)


	3. Diary of a Young Daemon

_Thoughts_

"English"

**Mind communication**

**Spells (Daemon)**

_**Spells ( Wizard)**_

Author's Note: Oh yeah, I sort of made a mistake in the previous chapter, Harry did not actually need to write on the paper, the paper just acted as a tiny portal to the Empyrean which allowed him to converse with other daemons and his mentor. The pen was the conduit and receiver for his mind, Harry just wrote on the paper out of sheer habit. That's it, thanks!

* * *

Chapter 2:

Diary of a Young Daemon

"_Little time is needed before one descends into madness…"_

_Say what you will about mortals, they make for great servants_ Harry thought happily. He was currently sitting at the head of the dining room and sipping expensive wine and holding his pen in his hand while Horse busied herself in cleaning the dishes, Pig Junior was bringing her said dishes, and Buffoon was watching TV at the living room, head turning constantly to look at Harry so that he won't miss any verbal or nonverbal command from the daemon.

**Who said anything about mortals being useless? **His master replied, causing Harry to start and nearly dropping the wine in the process. Red-faced and annoyed, he said.

**I would appreciate it, **_**master**_**, if you would tell me if you suddenly decide to make a social visit.**

**Where is the fun in that? Besides, I have not managed to repay you for your annoying visits to me yet. **

**Oh joy…**

**Silence meatsack, you might be a fellow daemon – only the Gods know why they decided to pick you – but you are still vulnerable to pain and injury, just not death, if you get my gist… (laughs)**

**You wouldn't dare.**

**Try me.**

Harry then laughed, startling his three relatives who started either inching slowly away from the room (Dudley) or looking for something to do (Vernon).

It's been about 2 weeks since he asserted his dominance over them, and he only had to punish them twice. _They are slowly learning_, he thought. During those two weeks, he continued to go to school along with Dudley if only to learn more about mortals, while at night he continued searching his growing mind library for interesting topics related to this world. He learned that the most that counted for daemons in this world were lowly Slaneeshi daemonettes and Khronate demons, nothing stronger than a class two demon. Harry himself was a class three, his master was a class five, and the Chaos Gods were class 13, so he was reasonably sure he could take down any daemon in this world in a one-to-one fight, but it's better if he lay low as swarms of class one and two daemons would be detrimental to his health.

Speaking of his master, he has been teaching Harry about the daemon magics more and more, and came to respect the old man (He didn't dare say that in his face again); following his master's instructions, he had been roaming all over London, reading in the libraries, watching the mortals, and generally having a grand time. On the side, he also began experimenting on the effects of his magic, while at the same time satisfying his daemon hunger through delightful torture.

_Hmm, I still feel a bit hungry, and that little snack I've been saving is still upstairs. Oh well, might as well torture her and be done with it, she wasn't that delicious to be honest…_ With that, Harry then said good night to his servants and went up the stairs to his bedroom, where a little girl around his age was crying her broken heart out. _Tch, not enough._

"Girl, did I not tell you to not touch anything in this room?" Harry asked imperiously, looking at the state of his once immaculate room. The clean and pressed sheets on the bed were strewn around and the pillows were on the ground, his stack of books that he made the Dursleys buy was knocked over and some were dirtied by the water and food he had left her, the clothes he bought for her were also thrown about around the room while she was sitting in his desk in her undergarments, crying while looking through another book. Harry winched when he saw that her tears were botching the page and muddying it to the point that the words were indecipherable; the girl had long black hair and porcelain skin, her figure like that of a young woman instead of a girl, her white teeth biting her red lips as she read the book. She looked up at the sound of his voice and suddenly jumped, making the book fly across the room, where he managed to catch it. He then turned to the girl who was staring at him in abject fear while hiding using the desk.

"Well?" He said.

"I-I'm sorry m-mma-mmaster! I didn't mean to wreck the room, I only wanted to try to please you when you came back here! Pp-please forgive me! I'll clean it up right away!" She stammered and started to clean the debris lying around the room but was stopped by Harry who was greatly annoyed with her.

"WHAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO DESTROY MY ROOM? I TOLD YOU TO JUST STAY ON THE BED OR IN THE CORNER BUT NEVER TOUCH ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE FOOD! COME HERE!" Harry shouted in her face, he shoved her to the bed and locked the door with a flick of his wrist at the same time. The sight of his room all but demolished made him want to punish her, to show her who was the one in charge here, plus, he loved to have sex with these mortals.

_(Author's note: Rape scene coming up.)_

Harry held her throat with his left hand while his right hand proceeded to remove his clothes, once his shaft was free he took her by the head and forced her to open her mouth and suck it. She replied with a trace of eagerness, m_aybe she is beginning to turn, _wetly sucking and licking his shaft while Harry started fingering her vagina. They continued doing this for one minute then Harry took a syringe from the table beside his desk and injected her with in. The stimulant drug doubled the strength of the sensations she experienced and she involuntarily moaned loudly while she continued to suck his shaft, using her hands to help her stimulate him while she started to get very wet.

When Harry ejaculated, she continued to lick and suck his shaft, swallowing the white fluid and keeping him hard. Harry then grabbed her hair and pulled her back while removing her panties. He then invaded her mouth with his tongue and kissed her roughly while she involuntarily started leaking fluid from her vagina, moaning softly the whole way. He guided himself inside her, one hand holding his hard shaft while the other held her close to him, when he entered her she shuddered wildly and started moaning loudly and panting while he moved himself back and forth inside her, slowly reaching his climax as she experienced orgasm after orgasm with every movement of his shaft. All too soon it was over, as she burned up the last of her energy and lost consciousness, just as Harry was near his climax. Disgusted with her, he withdrew from inside her and settled with spraying her cute face with copious amounts of fluid.

_Tch, what a letdown_ He thought. Whatever, her task was done and she couldn't pleasure him more even if she wanted to. One last service to him then, **Tantibus Mortem**. He whispered. Suddenly, she started screaming and thrashing around the bed, and Harry held her down and started entering her again. Cries of pain and anguish started mingling with moans of pleasure as Harry worked himself to a climax once again as she thrashed and arced under him, his mouth covering hers and alternately kissing and biting her mouth and neck as she slowly died from the spell.

All too soon, it was over, again.

_(Author's note: Well, that rape/sex/murder scene is done [shudders])_

Harry then disposed of the girl's body by sending it through portal to 10,000 feet above the ground over her house. He idly watched as her body was crushed to a pulp due to the velocity and then proceeded to clean his room.

* * *

It's been one year since Harry's 10th birthday, now he was a reasonably built 11-year-old boy with a vastly superior intellect compared to mortals and a healthy sense of cruelty and sadism. In the previous months, he finally managed to control the intensity of his magics and wards and was beginning to study the history of mages (like psykers back home) through a book he managed to buy at some dingy alley in London rife with magic, when an owl suddenly pecked the window at exactly 12 AM, disturbing his musings on the effects of Soul Magic to the wizarding core.

_Why does this feel like déjà vu?_ He thought as he allowed the owl to enter his room, knowing enough about the hidden world of wizards by now that he recognized that the owl was delivering an important letter. He thanked the owl by conjuring a live mouse for it, and began to read the letter with the weird badge (_mortals, tch)_.

A few minutes later, he had sent his reply with the owl and thought about the letter's contents. _Books, robes, more books, pets, wands, normal enough but WHAT THE HELL IS WITH THE QUILL AND PARCHMENT?_

**What is it now child? **His mentor asked irately. Lately Harry didn't need the conduit anymore to open a small portal to communicate with his master, what with his powers growing more and more he really couldn't be bothered anymore to need physical conduits to his power, it limited him and frustrated him to no end.

**Can you BELIEVE these British wizards? They still use parchment, PARCHMENT! How many years backwards are they?**

**More backwards than you think, you would do well to avoid being caught as a daemon, especially with them, they are on high average class one in power level, but the difference is that there are thousands of them, and one of you.**

**Hmph, I know that I should not flaunt my power master, but still, PARCHMENT!**

**I'm going to sleep now, don't you dare disturb me.**

Harry's master, a Lord of Change of the Great God Tzeentch, then decided to go stomping back into his private rooms and rest. Barely a minute of complete and utter peace has passed before his mind suddenly split with a massive cry of -

**!  
**

* * *

Harry was still smarting at the massive mind lash his mentor gave him last night due to the 'parchment' business but he needed to go to this Diagon Alley in order to make sure he was going to purchase the correct (to him) supplies. Sure, he was going to buy the standard supplies as stated in the letter, but NO way in hell was he going to write on parchment using quill and ink, no sir. It was with that goal firmly in mind that Harry went to the bank that contained his muggle money and checked his deposit, he currently had a little under 5 billion pounds (courtesy of the Gods, literally) accessible only in an emergency or when he comes of age (again courtesy of the Gods). He withdrew 100,000 pounds right then and there, the most single withdrawal per day (he was a VIP after all, child billionaire and all that) and went his merry way from there to the dingy pub the letter told him about.

When he entered the pub, a bell tingled somewhere, and all noise suddenly quieted as all the occupants in the room turned to look at a suddenly nervous daemon. _Wha- what is this? Do they know? What the hell are they staring at?_

_(Author's note: IMPORTANT, I'm VERY VERY SORRY guys, but I have to change a few things here in the plot. I just realized how ridiculously easy it would be for Harry to corrupt many people to Chaos if he were the Boy-Who-Lived to the public, hence, the switch: Harry now has a brother [as much as I hate to add this character], exactly one year younger than Harry and he is the public's Boy-Who-Lived, but ickle Harry is still the true Boy-Who-Lived cause let's face it, daemon trumps Voldy any day [runs])_

As suddenly as it came, it disappeared, all the people went back to their drinks and tables and company, and a mercifully spared Harry was left wondering what the hell was the fuss about. Shrugging it off, he instead walked to the bartender and asked to enter Diagon Alley, hearing all around him the talk and chatter of mundane mortals.

"Coulda swore the alarm was perfect" One was saying.

"I thought ya made sure only da Boy-Who-Lived could be trippin that alarm?" Another was asking.

"Nah, must be a fluke, only Jake Potter coulda activated that alarm"

Hearing the words Boy-Who-Lived and Jake Potter made Harry remember the contents of the third sheet of parchment (shudders) , it went somewhere along the lines of him being an older brother to some famous kid (Jake Potter) and for his (not sure if Harry or Jake here) protection, Harry was sent to the Dursleys to live there. Now that he was going to Hogwarts, Harry was to change his name to another that he liked (_small mercy_) in order to protect his brother and him from the publicity. _Suits me,_ he thought, as he remembered the name he had chosen and sent as part of the reply to the school. He now drew level with the bartender and asked for permission to Diagon Alley.

"What's yer name child?" The wizened, toothless wizard asked.

"Taenebris Nex sir, please to meet you"

With that, he received the instructions to open the path to Diagon Alley and thanked the bartender. Moving to the back of the pub, Taenebris touched the appropriate brick and stepped into the bright light of Diagon Alley. After going to Gringotts, opening a vault for himself and then depositing most of his converted money in it, and shopping in the various stores for most of his materials plus advanced materials for his experiments in the school (_No other way to pass the time…_), the only thing left in his agenda was the wand for channeling his power (_why I need a wand is beyond me_).

Entering the dingy shop called Ollivanders, he stood awkwardly in front of the counter, waiting for the owner. He could so feel the magic thick in the air, what with the general dustiness and all, but all he could focus on was the fact that row upon row of wands in boxes were stacked in neat shelves behind the counter as far as the eye can see.

"I wonder if he actually made all these wands?" He thought aloud.

"No, Mr. Nex, my forefathers have been making wands since 383 BC." A creepy voice answered him from nowhere, making him just about a foot in the air. The man who spoke then appeared, with the silvery-gray hair and creepy eyes, from in between some shelves, carrying some boxes with him and a measuring tape, which promptly started measuring Harry's dimensions without assistance. When it finally finished measuring Harry the man – Ollivander he presumed – had taken down some more boxes and put them on the table. "I would like you to try some of these wands, I daresay you already know the principles no?" He said, looking at Harry in the weirdest way.

Harry quickly decided the less time spent with him, the better, and immediately snatched up a wand freed from the box and… nothing happened. Ollivander then took the wand and gave Harry another, who touched it and… still nothing happened, the cycle repeating itself endlessly. By the twentieth wand he tried, Harry was beginning to get annoyed, while the creepy man was slowly becoming happier. _Yep, this guy is CREEPY, _he thought. When he finally touched the thirty-second wand, though, it started to warm up in his hand and emitted a fair amount of black sparks. Finally relieved, Harry turned to the counter where he suddenly was less than an inch away from Ollivander's creepy eyes.

"WHOA! BLOODY HELL!" Harry exclaimed as he unconsciously used his magic to put some distance between him and the shop owner in less than a second.

Ollivander then straightened up, looking mysteriously satisfied. "Wandless magic is your forte, is it not?" he asked.

"Yeah, what has that have to do with the heart attack?" Harry retorted, heart still thumping wildly.

"Only very few wizards have such powerful affinity to wandless magic, even less, I daresay, for _both _wandless and nonverbal magic"

"I thought all wizards could do this? I was under the impression that wands were used to amplify the magic siphoned off the core of the user to increase the power of the spells?"

"Oh no, only few wands are like that, frankly, I'm interested on how you have such knowledge of wizarding cores" Harry cursed silently at this slip-up.

"My tutor in wizardry insisted I read more about magical theories and hypotheses, said it would help me or something"

"Oh, very practical, your tutor, in any case, that wand is made out of the rare Deathwood, so very few trees like that left these days, and the core is a piece of the heart of a shadow wolf, very curious. The power of these components together would make for a very powerful wand, Mr. Nex, I would except great things from you, though I would not be surprised if you managed to do that without this wand."

Harry merely nodded and hurried out of the shop after paying for the wand, glad to be away from the creepy old man. The next month passed swiftly for him, as he studied books that he bought from the Alley, punished his relatives for their lapses, and satisfied himself with more girls, in short, the normal life of a daemon.

* * *

Yo everyone!

Alright, again I'm sorry I had to modify a few elements in the plot, I honestly thought the original was workable, anyway.

Terminology:

Tantibus Mortem – one of the spells of Harry's creation, similar to the Summonitiomen Noctus in that it is a hallucination spell, but this one goes a step further and engulfs the victim in a nightmare of their worst fears until they die from sheer terror, hence the name, which incidentally means "Nightmare to death".

Lord of Change – one of the Greater Daemons of Tzeentch, a humungous avian-like daemon that has knowledge of many forbidden and forgotten spells and sorcery.

Tzeentch – the Chaos God of Change (basically), he is basically the schemer god of the four, always plotting stuff in order to plot (sounds crazy, I know, but then he is a god). He has plans and strategies spanning for millennia, even some from the day of his birth.

Alrighty, I decided on making the fanfics in seven portions, much like the books in order to make everything work. Please don't kill me if I don't immediately start on the second part as soon as the first is done, because I might be thinking of starting on another genre to avoid writer's block.

P.S. If you noticed, I made the second chapter only a day after the first, this is because of two reasons. One, I was bored as hell and didn't have anything else to do so I decided on making the next one and; Two, I already had the basic outline planned out in my mind so I decided to just go with it. I might not be able to do this again so please do not get your hopes up, I did try to keep the quality up but if it seems that the quality dropped please tell me so I can optimized my work, thanks.

P.S.S. Yes, I tried making a vague reference to the Memetic Mutation in 40k known as CREEEEDDDD! I realized it's not as funny as I thought but what the hell.

Cheers,

Creleuth


End file.
